


Washing It Away

by Lassarina



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/pseuds/Lassarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long night in Tartarus, FeMC, Akihiko, and Shinjiro unwind and help each other wash away the strain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washing It Away

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the March 2013 round of AreYouGame for the prompt _Persona 3 Portable - Female MC/Akihiko/Shinjiro - Showering/bathing together (or, as an alternative, their reflections on her after the game) - sophistication_
> 
> Also, for purposes of this fic, I'm assuming odd timeline compression that results in them all being over 18.

She's so tired she trips on the little step at the back door; Shinjiro catches her arm and pulls her back to her feet, though it makes her already-sore shoulder twinge. His fingers leave trails in the ichor on her arm. She grimaces at it; she knows she has to wash it off tonight but she just wants to go to sleep. Mitsuru-senpai and the others headed back a bit before them; Akihiko and Shinjiro dropped back to keep her company, since she was lagging even after Yukari's generous application of Diarama. So they're the last ones to get back. She hopes Mitsuru-senpai and Yukari are going right to bed; she doesn't want to make small talk while she tries to just get the remnants of Shadows off her. Mitsuru-senpai has her own bathroom, at least, and Yukari didn't climb with them tonight, so she probably has just gone straight to bed.

"Hey," Shinjiro says when she would have kept going up to the third floor. She looks back, and tired as she knows he is, he's got that trouble-making grin on his face. He tilts his head toward the boys' showers and raises an eyebrow until it disappears under his hair. Akihiko looks surprised, and then pleased. He holds out a hand to her.

She's tired, but maybe she's not _that_ tired. "Let me get my things," she whispers, and scoots up the stairs as quietly as she can.

Thankfully, the hallway lights have been dimmed and she only sees light under Mitsuru-senpai's door; Yukari and Fuuka seem to already be asleep. The shoes she found in Tartarus are light as air and make very little sound, which is really useful for sneaking up on Shadows and, as it turns out, surprisingly useful here too. She ducks into her room to grab the little plastic caddy and picks up some clean clothes very carefully, wrapping the hand that's less dirty with a paper towel to do so. She makes it past Mitsuru-senpai's room without alerting her, and races back down to the second floor.

She's half-afraid they've started without her, but no, they're waiting outside the bathroom, with their own stuff nearby. For a moment she almost reconsiders—they've never done anything like this before—but she puts her smile back in place and takes the last step down onto the landing.

"Hey," Shinjiro says, soft and intense, "if you're not up for this, that's okay. Nobody's making you do anything."

Of course he noticed the hesitation. She shakes her head so fiercely her hair whips around her and stings when it slaps her cheek, and takes the next three steps almost at a run until she's close enough to touch, to hug. He wraps his arms around her, but he looks at her thoughtfully for a long moment before he nods and tips his head toward the door. "Let's go, then," he says.

Akihiko leads the way, and she doesn't know why she expected their bathroom to look any different than the one that she shares with Yukari and Fuuka, but somehow she did. Shinjiro flips the water on, and she's pleased to see that he seems to like it as hot as she does. Akihiko gets right down to business, stripping off his shirt and dropping it to the side, but Shinjiro catches his hand when he reaches for his pants.

"Are you sure?" Shinjiro asks her again, looking back at her over his shoulder. He hasn't moved, hasn't come near her to touch her. She takes the two steps to close the gap and puts his free hand against the top button of her shirt.

"I'm sure," she says, because he seems to be waiting for her to say it.

He lets go of Akihiko's wrist and turns toward her, unbuttoning her shirt slowly. His hands are calloused and she likes the feel of them on her skin, just a little bit rough as he trails a gentle touch down the gap he is opening in the fabric. She slides her hands under his shirt, feeling the wiry sturdiness of muscle and the little hollows in his ribs from not eating enough on the streets, and he laughs a little and twitches away because he's ticklish. She flattens her palms against his chest and rubs slow circles, then tugs upward to pull his shirt over his head. She gets stuck a bit because he's still trying to undo _her_ shirt and they're at cross-purposes, but amid stifled laughter they both manage to be at least as undressed as Akihiko is.

Akihiko's hands come around Shinjiro from behind, unfastening his pants and tugging them down, and she steps closer until she's pressed full up against Shinjiro, reaching past him to tug at Akihiko's pants. In the tangle of limbs that follows they manage to get all of their remaining clothes off and stand pressed against each other. Even streaked in Shadow-ichor and sweaty from their battles, she thinks they're gorgeous.

The hot water is starting to make the whole bathroom a little bit steamy and thick, but it's still brisk enough that she shivers when a draft slides sly icy fingers over her skin. Akihiko takes her hand and tugs her toward the shower, and she goes willingly. Three of them is a tight fit, and awkward when she bumps the top of her head against Shinjiro's chin and his elbow hits the wall with enough force to make her wince on his behalf, but it's still thrilling to be here like this. Sometime, she thinks, she'd like to do this in a hot spring or a bathtub big enough for the three of them, something sophisticated and grown-up. Tonight, though, it's enough to be able to really _see_ them, in light dimmed and softened by steam instead of the thin glow of street lamps through the window. She hadn't really seen that scar on Shinjiro's shoulder before; she leans forward to press a kiss against it and makes him chuckle, a little bit. Akihiko kisses the back of her neck, right where the knob of her spine is, and no, she's not really very tired anymore.

They help each other wash up, soap sliding slippery and soft over their skin. Hers smells like cherries, her favourite, and theirs smells fresh and clean. She likes smoothing her hands over the hard muscles of Shinjiro's back and Akihiko's chest, feeling their hands on her skin like bright sparks of sensation. Soap slides and slicks between their bodies, and she likes the way it makes her hands run so easily over their bodies, savouring all the differences and places that make them draw in sharp breaths. Shinjiro likes her fingernails dragged lightly across his back, like that; Akihiko prefers kisses pressed against his neck and under his chin. She shivers when Shinjiro smooths his hands over her breasts, tugging lightly at her nipples until they're hard and pink under his hands, and bites her lip to keep quiet when Akihiko spends far more time than is really necessary slowly and thoroughly applying soap to her legs and higher up, between them, never quite putting pressure where she wants it but teasing everywhere around.

The ichor slides away in greenish-black trails that vanish down the drain, leaving them all clean and glistening as the water runs over them. She can feel the strain drain away also, as Shinjiro kneads her shoulders and she stretches up to kiss them both by turns.

There's not enough room here for much movement, and after the third time Shinjiro bumps his elbow against the wall he swears and shuts off the water with a slap. "Let's get some more room," he says, and his voice is that low deep growl that he gets when he's turned on. She is only too happy to comply. They help each other dry off, much less efficiently than they could do it themselves, and dress hastily. They tiptoe through the hallway to Shinjiro's room, carrying their bath caddies with them and trying to be quiet so Ken and Junpei won't wake up and come see what the fuss is all about. Once inside, they tumble onto Shinjiro's bed, still too small a space, but at least this one is open at the sides.

Somehow she winds up on top of the pile, which suits her fine, as she can slide her hands down Akihiko's chest, and then lower, making him moan quietly when her fingers curl around him and stroke slowly. She hisses in a breath when Shinjiro reaches up to tease at her breasts, and lets herself fall into the sensations, a tangle of hands and lips and tongues and shivery, electric bursts of feeling as they touch and taste. The heat between them burns away what the shower could not, and she feels clean, all of the darkness of Tartarus carried away on fire-bright feelings and lightning-spark touches. She shudders and digs her nails deep into Akihiko's back, pressing her mouth against his shoulder to muffle the sound she makes when Shinjiro's fingers slide easy and confident between her legs, and then turns tongue and lips to better uses against Akihiko's skin and watches, as best she can, how he touches Shinjiro, a little rough and harder than she does, but in either case Shinjiro doesn't complain, arching up into it. At last they are sated, collapsed into an awkward tangle of limbs that is nonetheless comforting.

She squirms and wriggles until she has inched up between them, pressed warm between Shinjiro's chest and Akihiko's back, and lets her eyes drift closed. Shinjiro murmurs and presses his lips against the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and Akihiko reaches back to tug her arm forward over his chest so she is holding him close against her. She lets the warm tide of sleep come in, washing away the last remains of the nightmare that is Tartarus.


End file.
